


Worship

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 16:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16520015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Watcher's Crown succeeds.





	Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh I blame Kyros for linking me to Not Alone by The Indelicates. You should give it a listen.

            It hurts. Hurts like hell, in fact. And he is, Elias thinks, most definitely dying. He’s rather surprised he’s not dead already. There’s bright red blood staining the entire front of his waistcoat, and his suit jacket retains only half an arm, the white sleeves beneath shredded to ribbons. Blinking dazedly down at his arms, he sees that they’re covered in purple bruising, and the palms of his hands are covered in shallow cuts, some of which are still bleeding, others of which are crusted around with drying blood. Melanie did quite a thorough job, although not thorough enough, Elias thinks, tipping his head back to look at the mess of white pages that are all that are left of the altar on which Jon willingly bowed his head.

            Above him, the ceiling is gone as well, nothing but the jagged edges of brickwork framing the sky above like an open maw. Elias drags in another painful breath. There’s still ink and chalk scrawled on the floor: Martin’s work, faithful to the last.

            The sky is boiling, strange purples and whites flickering around each other, and across them wind lines of thin black, hesitant and shaky at first, like a child’s first letters, but growing in strength and confidence. A prickling feeling starts on the back of Elias’s neck, and he laughs, although the laughter jolts painfully through his ribs, and the next moment he’s spitting out blood onto the nearby stones.

            The cold stones press sharply into his back, and he savors the sensation, knowing it will fade soon enough. As he watches, the clouds above him peel back to reveal an enormous eye, opening for the first time. Its gaze on him is blank and pitiless; it watches the rattling breaths pulled from his throat with no hint of compassion. But even with all its emotions stripped, Elias recognizes the sprinkling of light flecks in the dark-ringed iris, and he accepts Jon’s gaze gladly enough.

            “You are my god,” Elias whispers, as the dark bleeds in like ink around his vision. “And I…I love you.”


End file.
